


I Said Hi

by breathewords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, and also sweet pea, core four get angry, just at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: "The bliss of unconsciousness doesn’t last long, unfortunately for Jughead. He’s not surprised. He’s a Jones. Unfortunate is practically his middle name." Fairly canon-compliant with 2.22. Kind of a post-2.21, kind of missing scenes from 2.22.





	I Said Hi

**Author's Note:**

> Because I had this weird desire to see angry!Jug and Betty yelling at her mom like a normal 16-year-old instead of being her emotional crutch and the core four actually fighting out their problems instead of just singing about them or having a dance-off (Betty and Veronica, I’m looking at you). Still, I can’t not write a happy ending. Really just a drabble since I’m procrastinating a full-length fic.
> 
> Title and story inspired by Amy Shark’s song “I Said Hi.” I super recommend it. So good, and I listened to it on repeat while I wrote this. If you listen and share your thoughts I will be very happy.

The bliss of unconsciousness doesn’t last long, unfortunately for Jughead. He’s not surprised. He’s a Jones. Unfortunate is practically his middle name (it sure as hell would be better than his real one).

When he comes to on the hard ground just outside Fox Forest, he wants to be sad and consoling and apologetic and empathetic.

He looks up and the first thing he sees is Betty. She is everywhere. Flying around him, checking his pulse, ruining her pretty pink coat kneeling in the mud, calling out commands to everyone else, who all seem to be frozen in time. She looks… _unhinged._ He wants to comfort her.

Stranger yet, he wants to comfort his father. Immediately behind Betty, FP paces back and forth, phone clutched to his ear, hand visibly trembling and covered in blood.

 _My blood,_ Jughead thinks, and curses himself for being alive. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to sacrifice himself. As it turns out, he can’t even get that right.

So he doesn’t pull Betty into his arms and tell her he’s okay. He doesn’t lay a hand on his father’s shoulder and ask him to relax. He slams the side of his fist into the ground, hating Hiram Lodge and Penny Peabody and Mrs. Klump and Reggie Mantel and the Black Hood and the Sugarman and Clifford Blossom and Jason Blossom and everyone who’s ever wronged him and wronged this town, his _home_. Hating himself most of all. For not being able to protect it. For not being able to protect anyone.

The action sends a violent pain up his arm, and that’s when he notices that seemingly every part of his body is throbbing. His eyes close of their own accord, and he thinks he might pass out again. He even prays for it, so naturally, he remains awake and aware.

“Jug, Jesus Christ, _don’t do that,_ ” Betty insists.

Her voice is far from sweet. It’s far from sad, consoling, concerned. It’s _angry_.

 _Good_ , he thinks.

She should be angry. Angry with this whole goddamn town just like he is, but angry with him most of all. He tried to leave her. Again. Why did he do that?

He tries to sit up, but his arm aches and his head spins and all he can smell is blood and dirt and he feels raw and it’s a little hard to breathe and he thinks if he moves any further up he might vomit, so he’s lying back down before Betty can even reprimand him. She does anyway.

“Jughead,” she says sternly, no love in her voice. “Just… just stay down. Can you please just lie there and not move for like 30 seconds? Do you think you can manage that?”

As she turns to call Archie, he catches her nails find her palms. He’s so sorry. He wants to tell her, but his voice seems to have died.

“You got your old man’s car, Red?” FP asks Archie.

Jughead doesn’t dare move to see Archie’s response, but soon enough, he jogs into view.

“Get him up!” Betty says a little shrilly.

“Sweet Pea,” his father calls, and then Sweet Pea is towering over him, too.

He tries to sit up again, because even though he’s a loner weirdo writer who doesn’t care that he doesn’t fit in and is openly and admittedly whipped by his petite blonde girlfriend, he feels distinctly un-masculine lying on the ground looking up at Archie and Sweet Pea.

“I told you to stop!” Betty says, voice turning from just shrill to what might actually be considered a scream.

_How un-Cooper of her._

He’s got his eyes open now and has managed to prop himself up on his elbows. He feels blood running hot down his arm, tastes it in his mouth, coppery and bitter. Sees Archie throw out an arm to stop Betty from trying to force him back on the ground. Hears his father command, “Get him in the truck.”

“Up you go, Jones,” Sweet Pea says, and then he’s got his arms around Sweet Pea and Archie, and they basically drag him into the bed of Fred’s truck because his legs don’t seem to be working very well. He grits his teeth and tries not to scream, not wanting to give away the fact that he’s in a lot of pain, but probably failing anyway.

“Give him here,” Betty says, hopping over the side rail and into the back of the truck as well.

His head is in her lap and her hands frame his face against her better judgement. Sweet Pea shoves himself in the back row next to Toni and Cheryl, and Archie joins FP in the front.

With Archie at the wheel, Jughead finds his voice has returned, albeit a little more strained and raspy than usual.

“Archie,” he grits, banging on the back window despite the waves of pain it brings to his arm, his shoulder, his chest, his whole body. “If you hit one more pothole at 40 miles per hour, you won’t have to worry about the Black Hood anymore. I’ll kill you myself.”

Betty seizes his arm and yanks it back down by his side.

“Don’t!” She shrieks over his complaints of, “Ouch, Betts!”

Every muscle in her body has tensed up.

“Betty,” he says, closing his eyes, trying to find the words, _any words_ , to say to her. None come. There’s too much to say. Too much to explain. Too much to ask. Too much pain to think clearly.

“Juggie,” she says, suddenly dropping her forehead to his. It’s a little too violent, her smacking her head against his, and he bites into his lip to keep from screaming, but wills her to stay there, mercifully close to his face.

She does. Over the screech of the tires and the sound of screams and the chaos that is now Riverdale, she whispers, “If anything happens to you, tonight or ever, I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I can’t take anymore, Jughead. Please, just be okay for me.”

It’s a lot to ask.

Archie manages to get them to Riverdale General (after what seems like a million potholes and jolting stops and abrupt starts), and Betty helps him scoot to the edge of the truck, legs dangling off the edge, half-slumped into her side.

FP jogs inside to try to alert a doctor, and Sweet Pea and Archie prop him up between them again.

“Can you walk at all?” Archie asks.

“Yeah,” Jughead says. And he can. Just very slowly. And not without support.

Which apparently, Sweet Pea is reluctant to give.

“That’s great, Jones. We’re all so proud of our little hero. You want a fucking medal?”

“Sweet Pea, can we not do this right now?” Jughead begs through his teeth.

“No, you know what, we’re fucking doing this. I don’t take orders from you.”

Sweet Pea steps away from Jughead, who almost loses his balance. Betty steps closer immediately, reluctant but ready to help.

“I’m not trying to give you orders! Or be a hero! I was trying to stop the rest of our friends from being literally slaughtered by Ghoulies!”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Sweet Pea yells. “We _voted!_ We voted to fight and get our own vengeance and closure, no matter the cost! You think I didn’t know we were facing impossible odds! I did!”

“So you’re mad at me for what? Taking away your chance to get the shit kicked out of you, too? Feel free to walk back into that forest, Sweet Pea.”

“Not the chance, the decision! You’re not the only one with an axe to grind, you know!”

“Sweet Pea,” Jughead starts up again, but there’s a gash on his forehead that’s opened up, and blood is pouring down is face so fast it’s filling his mouth, and he knows he must look like something out of a Stephen King novel, but he’s just so _angry_ , and if Sweet Pea wants to fight, then so be it.

He steps away from Archie, and the world tips on its axis. He leans over to spit a mouthful of blood on the ground, and finds himself on his hands and knees instead, vision blurred. Betty’s there with him, trying to mop up the blood gushing from his forehead with her coat sleeve.

“Quit it,” Jughead says breathlessly.

He gasps for air and wills the world not to go black, because now he’s afraid if it does, it’ll never be bright again.

“Can you stand?” Betty asks. “We should get you inside.”

Slowly, she gets him to his feet. He just wants to lie back down, stop bleeding, and wake up from this nightmare. Through the blood and the eye that’s almost fully swollen shut, he sees Archie shove Sweet Pea away from him and Betty.

“Don’t touch me, Northsider!”

Then Archie’s on the ground and for some reason, Jughead expects Betty to run to his side instead. She doesn’t. She doesn’t even flinch. Instead, Toni detaches herself from Cheryl and places herself in between Sweet Pea and Archie, well versed in deescalating this kind of situation.

Jughead hears her start to yell as Betty steers him toward the hospital.

“Betty,” he starts to say for the second time that night. Then, in an instant, the ground drops out from under him and he blacks out again.

This time, when he wakes, he’s in a sterile, white hospital bed.

“What the fuck?” He says to no one in particular.

“Watch your mouth, boy,” FP says half-heartedly, because it’s what a good father is supposed to say. Then, much gentler, “No, Jug, don’t move so much, you’ll tear the stitches.”

He forces himself to settle down and surveys his body as best he can, since one of his eyes is still refusing to open all the way. He’s mostly bandaged from the waist up, and feels like he’s been run over by a large truck. FP must sense his confusion.

“Do you remember what happened?” FP asks.

“I… I remember calling Hiram. Telling him I’d turn myself over to Penny in exchange for her calling off the Ghoulies. Showing up in Fox Forest and… there were so many of them…”

His thoughts are jumbling and it’s frustrating him. He closes his eyes and clenches his fist, resulting in searing pain in the spot where is tattoo is. Used to be. He glances down at his bicep.

“Figured as much,” FP says. “They messed you up pretty good, Jug. That’s a skin graft, you’re not gonna want to move that arm too much. You’ve got a concussion, too. Do you remember getting here?”

“Uh, yeah…”

He trails off, but remembers all at once, lying in the bed of the truck, fighting with Sweet Pea, collapsing on Betty.

“Betty,” he says, seemingly unable to say anything else following her name.

“I’ll get her. She’s in the waiting room with Archie.”

* * *

In the waiting room of the Riverdale General Hospital, Betty and Alice Cooper have a fight of epic proportions just before the sun rises on a new day. Thankfully, by then, the masses have been tamed, either in hospital rooms with their recovering loved ones or sent home in despair. Not Betty, though.

When Jughead passed out for the second time, he nearly took her down with him. Thankfully, Archie stepped in to help, and the two of them managed to drag Jughead inside as Cheryl and Toni headed off with Sweet Pea.

“Keep us informed, cousin,” Cheryl calls over her shoulder to Betty.

Betty doesn’t reply. She can’t reply. If she does, she’ll scream. She’s furious. At her father, for being a murderous criminal. At Jughead’s father, for allowing his son to be sucked into a life of turf wars and knife fights. At Sweet Pea, for picking a fight with Jughead. At Jughead, even, for not realizing that she’d die without him, for going and being so brave and stupid and getting himself beaten within an inch of his life, for not staying awake and bleeding on her shoulder and making her think _he’s dying he’s dying he’s dying_ on a loop of terror.

Inside the hospital, Jughead is rushed into emergency surgery. She waits with Archie and FP, bone-tired but refusing sleep. Thankfully, Jughead will survive his injuries. A doctor comes out eventually and tells them he’s been moved to a recovery room, still sedated but hopefully waking up shortly. Betty stands to follow FP, and that’s when her phone rings.

She drops it in terror, clutching Archie’s arm. She’s paralyzed.

“Betty, what’s wrong?”

Why doesn’t he know that she can’t move, can’t speak, can’t feel? He bends down and picks up her phone.

“It’s your mom.”

 _Of course_ , she thinks. Her father is at the sheriff’s station. He is not calling her. No one else will suffer at his hand.

“Right,” she says.

He turns to go into Jughead’s room.

“Can you wait out here with me?” Betty asks, desperation in her eyes.

He nods, and she answers the call. Her mother demands her whereabouts, and she tells her she’s okay, she’s at the hospital, Jughead was hurt but pulling through. 

“I’ll be right there,” Alice says.

“No, mom…”

The call disconnects before Betty can tell her mother there’s no need for her to come.

“My mom is on her way, I should probably wait out here for her,” Betty tells Archie.

He gives her a look that reveals for once, he’s seeing right through her bullshit.

“I can’t go in there, Arch. I can’t look at him like… like that. It hurts too much.”

“Okay, let’s just give it a minute. I’ll wait with you.”

They sit in silence until Alice comes barreling through the doors, hair uncharacteristically disheveled and bruises blooming on her neck. Betty looks away.

“Elizabeth, sweetie,” Alice says, throwing her arms around her daughter.

Betty pushes them off.

“I’m gonna go grab something from the vending machine,” Archie says suddenly, recognizing tension and disappearing as quickly as possible.

Alice attempts affection with her daughter again, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Oh, Betty. I’m so glad you’re safe. After everything that happened with Chic, and your father, if anything happened to you…”

It’s too similar to what she said to Jughead, and she’s sitting here perfectly fine while he’s probably breathing through a tube. She has no sympathy for her mother. She’s done with her tears. She will not let Alice sit here and try to relate to her experiences, both with Jughead tonight and her father over the past few months.

“Get off me,” she says, eyes trained on the wall in front of her.

Alice lifts her head slowly.

“Betty,” she says, voice full of sadness. Betty is _sick_ of that tone. She jumps out of her chair and turns on her mother.

“If you cry right now, I swear to god. I can’t deal with you tonight, too! I can’t be your emotional support system! I can’t even be my own! I don’t want to talk about Dad, I don’t want to bond over his insanity, I just want to be alone with my boyfriend!”

She sounds like a petulant 16-year-old. She knows it. She just doesn’t care. She’s allowed to act her age every now and again.

“Elizabeth Cooper, don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

A lot of yelling ensues. Betty curses her mother out for a laundry list of wrongdoing. For crushing her self confidence. For driving Polly away. For growing so attached to Chic. For growing unattached to Hal. For even pretending his arrest will affect her life in a negative way. For always leaning on her too hard. For not asking about Jughead, not caring, when he’s the only person who matters to Betty.

Alice, being Alice, “won’t stand for it,” insisting that she’s always had Betty’s best interests at heart, always tried to look out for her, always tried to be strong for her.

In the end, FP emerges and breaks up the fight with, “He’s awake. Can you come in, Betty?”

“Excuse me, FP, I’m speaking with my daughter,” Alice says.

“Speaking? Could have fooled me.”

“I have to go, Mom,” Betty says.

“I’ll keep an eye on her, Ali,” FP says. “They need each other right now. Go home.”

Alice looks like she wants to say something else. Betty knows she won’t surrender, won’t just grant Betty some peace, won’t concede a single point to FP. She’s surprised when Alice just turns and leaves.

* * *

She doesn’t run to his side. She doesn’t fling herself into his arms. She doesn’t cry and thank god that he’s alive. She lingers awkwardly at the doorway while FP mutters something about taking a phone call and Jughead stares at her like he’s not sure if she wants to kill him or kiss him.

She’s not sure herself. Finally, her heart wins out, and she pulls a chair up next to his bed and takes his hand.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

Archie pokes his head in and asks if he can join. They both just nod, still at a loss for words. Between the two of them, it’s a first.

“What time is it?” Jughead asks.

“Dude, so early,” Archie says with a laugh. “Like, 6 a.m.”

Jughead’s wondering out loud if he’ll be allowed to go home today when Veronica pokes her head in.

“I brought breakfast,” she says, brandishing a bag of bagels.

Archie tears into one as she deposits herself in his lap.

Betty looks like the sight of food might make her sick.

Jughead is two seconds away from tearing the goddamn tube out of his nose and forcibly removing Veronica from his presence.

“Hey Veronica,” he says instead. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I invited her,” Archie says, jumping to her defense. “She wanted to check in on you.”

“That’s funny, considering her dad’s the reason I got the shit beaten out of me last night.”

“I hardly think he’s all to blame, Jughead, but…”

Before Veronica can finish her sentence, Betty’s on her feet, staring menacingly down at Veronica and Archie, asking “Your father is responsible for this?”

Archie is uncharacteristically quite.

“As I was saying,” Veronica continues, glaring at Betty. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. Jughead, I have no idea what you’re referring to, but why don’t you tell us what happened?”

“Happily,” he says, and quickly recounts his conversation with Hiram again.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Betty says.

“Why don’t we hold off on death threats on my father,” Veronica says, getting to her feet perhaps more menacingly than intended.

Betty, who’s been tamping down violent urges all night, all week, her _whole life_ , hardly blinks before slamming Veronica against the wall, nails digging into Veronica’s arms.

“Are you really _still_ going to defend him, Veronica? He tried to have Jughead killed! On top of everything else he’s done to this town, everything he’s _still trying to do_ , that is… unforgivable.”

She says the last word slowly, deliberately, like a promise.

“I’m not defending him!” Veronica yells, shoving Betty off her. Betty stumbles backward, and something is propelling Jughead quickly, too quickly, into a sitting position. A machine starts beeping to his left. He gets dizzy and then Archie’s got a hand on his chest, keeping him sitting on the bed.

“Betty’s fine,” Archie says, albeit a little coldly.

“Far from it!” Veronica is still yelling. “I believe Jughead, and I want my dad to pay for what he’s done. I’m just saying you’re being a little dramatic, Betty!”

“If you and your evil fucking family had never moved to this town, Jughead wouldn’t be in the hospital right now!”

“ _My_ evil family?” Veronica says incredulously. “That’s rich, coming from you!”

It happens in an instant. Betty punching Veronica. Veronica careening into a wall. Archie grabbing Betty. Jughead fighting with wires and tubes and pain to get out of bed. The god forsaken machine starts beeping again, louder this time. He half expects an adult to come rushing in. Like usual, no one comes to the rescue.

“Fuck,” Jughead swears, pulling out the IV and shakily getting to his feet.

The two steps he takes to get to Betty feel like two miles.

“Betty, relax, relax,” he says. She’s still struggling in Archie’s hold.

His hands come up to frame her face, and she deflates. Archie immediately releases her and goes to Veronica, who’s sitting agains the wall, face in her hand.

“You’re right, Veronica,” Betty says as Archie leads his girlfriend out the door for some ice.

“I’m sorry,” she says to Jughead. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

She gets in with him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight, Juggie.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. It’s just been a crazy night for all of us.”

“I hurt Veronica.”

“In all honesty, you throwing a punch was kind of hot.”

She smiles a little, but it’s fleeting.

“Why’d you do it, though?” He asks.

“What she said about my dad.”

“Your dad?”

She realizes she never told him about Hal’s arrest. She doesn’t want to say it allowed again, doesn’t want to admit she’s been living under the same roof as a murderer and didn’t know it. He’ll hate her. The whole town will hate her.

“He was arrested tonight, Jughead.”

“Arrested? For what?”

“He’s the Black Hood,” she says, tears finally spilling. “He admitted it to my mom and I. On record. He attacked my mom. God, he tried to kill her, and I yelled at her, and I punched Veronica, and…”

She’s sobbing then, and he’s shushing her and apologizing and she just buries her head in his chest and wills her emotions away. He rubs her back and tells her it’s okay, even though it’s not, for the few minutes it takes for her to stop crying.

“I should get Veronica and apologize,” Betty says.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“I’m not sure she should.”

“Please don’t beat yourself up over this, Betty.”

She gives him a look.

“Sorry, really poor choice of words,” he concedes.

“You think?”

She giggles a little, and it brings out the smallest of smirks in him. She’s tracing patterns on his hand where the IV used to be when Archie and Veronica come back in.

Betty sits up, apology on her lips.

“I’m sorry I brought up your dad,” Veronica says first. “It was a low blow.”

“No, V, I’m sorry I was so terrible about yours. I was out of line. And I definitely shouldn’t have hit you. I don’t know whyI did that.”

“No, you were right. And I’m not exactly one to advocate against a solid punch every now and then. For some reason, it was just an instinct to defend my dad. But we’re done doing that. Right, Arch?”

“Definitely,” Archie says.

He pulls up a chair closer to Jughead’s bed and props his feet up.

“Make yourself at home,” Jughead jokes.

Archie snickers and leans back in his chair, grabbing for the bag of bagels again. Veronica leans over to hug Betty, then rounds the bed to pull up a chair next to Archie. Jughead takes a bagel, which Betty tries to steal a bite from, much to his chagrin. Archie takes to throwing chunks of his own bagel for Betty to catch in her mouth. She’s no good at it.

By the time a nurse comes in, presumably to unplug Jughead and release him from the hospital, the four of them are laughing and there’s food all over the floor.


End file.
